Entropique
by Jack-Absinthe
Summary: It's Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser'
1. Stranger in Familiar Land

TITLE: Entropique AUTHOR: Jack Absinthe SUMMARY: Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' movies. A/N: This is my second Buffy fic ever. This also takes place after Willow's arrival back to Sunnydale from England. Joss, don't be a pussy and sue. That goes for you too, Clive. I know they're not mine. Oh, and thanks to - history.html for their contributions. ______________________________________________________________ Prologue: Deformography_________________________________________  
  
A man dressed in all black ran thru one of the numerous cemeteries of Sunnydale, California. He was anxious, in a hurry for something. Finally, he spotted an old abandoned church, dilapidated and rustic, and fled for shelter. He had a large black satchel that he threw upon the old altar as he removed his clothing. He was a muscular man, young, sweaty, ripe. The satchel had knocked off the statue of the Virgin Mary from off the altar. He took 4 black candles and placed them strategically around him, in a square, using the black wax as an outline. He sat in the middle, clothed in nothing but dirty underwear, with a golden box in his hand. He began to caress it with his sweaty, hang nailed fingers, frustrated but seemingly aroused by the anticipation. Suddenly, the box flew out of his hands and in front of him. It began to unfold itself, as if it were solving itself. It stopped and the floor boards began to shake, as all light diminished as a mysterious blue light peeked thru the cracks of the building. The Catholic statues began to burst, as the candles burst into flames. A hole at the top of the box opened, and s horde of black hooked chains emerged, tearing into the boys flesh. He wailed with pain and excitement, as the hooks pulled his flesh into the box. The altar began to break open, revealing another world behind this one. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" The boy's screaming body was drug into the box, like a cantaloupe being squeezed down a straw. Then, the box shut, and things returned to normal, with the puzzle unraveling, waiting for someone else to play. Laughter and screams of agony and elation could faintly be heard in the midst, while the blood and flesh lay there upon the church floor.  
  
Chapter One: Stranger in Familiar Land________________________________________  
  
Willow woke up and watched the rays of sun enter her room-once Joyce Summers' room. She climbed out of the bed in the outfit she'd worn on the trip back to Sunnydale. She'd not changed yet. She opened her suitcase and pulled out an emerald green peasant top and worn denim skirt with black leather granny boots. She walked downstairs to the kitchen and opened the fridge to find that it was close to empty. She shut it in defeat, knowing in the back of her head she could summon up a sumptuous feast. But that was not her anymore. She was going straight, no magicks unless they were necessary. And even then she would be reluctant. Willow decided not to wake Buffy or the others and entered the Dining Room, to the computer. She logged on, checked her mail; there wasn't much but SPAM concerning Wicca and lesbian pornography. She rubbed her tired green eyes and began to browse the net. Something caught her attention as she browsed through various museum sites. Not her physical attention, but something deeper, more mystical. She journeyed back until she recovered the article that'd given her this sensation. Something about an artifact having been missing, a puzzle box, the Lament Configuration. The writer explained that the puzzle box had been stolen early last week from the Sunnydale Museum of History and Artifacts. It was one of Willow's favorite digs. Something drew her to it. It was as if the picture of the box was calling to her. But it was just a picture, of a small golden box with esoteric carvings and intricate symbols and designs. She wondered if Giles knew anything about it. She glanced over at him, laying there on the couch, snoring and muttering something about nothing. She continued to look in on this mysterious box... Suddenly, there was a playful knock at the Summers' front door. She could tell it was Xander. It must've been for Dawn. Ever since Willow and Giles had arrived back in Sunnydale, Dawn had been giving Willow the cold shoulder. But, Willow did not fault her for it. After all, she had tried to kill everyone she loved and then some. The knocking continued. Willow wanted to answer, but as soon as her eyes turned to the living room, they were immediately drawn back to the computer screen. Giles awoke in mid-snore, adjusting himself to the morning. He looked around and realized the noise was coming from the outside. Before he could get up, Dawn rushed down the steps, dressed in a sweater and hip hugger jeans. She didn't acknowledge Willow's presence, but opened the door and let Xander inside. Willow looked up from the computer, glancing at Xander and Dawn. "So, Dawn, time for another thrilling day at the new improved Sunnydale High." Xander joked.  
  
"Gee" Dawn began sarcastically. "I can't keep it all in. I might explode from all this glee." "Hey, Dawnie." Willow said timidly, unsure of what Dawn's response would be. "Oh, hey Will." It was a courtesy response from Dawn, but at least Willow got her speaking to her again. "Hey, Xander, let's go." "Um, sure thing. The Xandermobile should be unlocked and awaiting your entry, and yes, I realize the innuendo in that last sentence." Dawn grabbed her book bag from beside the couch and waved goodbye to Giles. "Oh, um, goodbye, Dawn. " Giles groggily replied. He sat up, and before Xander could exit, Giles spoke, rubbing his English face. "Please return her in one piece, Xander." "Always do, Giles." "Yes, well, I've seen you drive." Xander turned towards Willow's direction. "Bye, Will." Before Willow could respond, Xander was out of the door, shutting it behind him, depleting the sunlight. "Bye, Xander." Willow muttered. The shutting of the door left the house in silence. All was quiet except for Giles moans and groans as he stretched, trying to wake. Things were so different now, and as much as Willow had expected them to be, she never anticipated the distance she'd be feeling between the other Scoobies. But there seemed to be a connection being made between her and this mysterious puzzle box. But what was it. Willow decided to break to air of quiet. "Giles? Do you know what the Lament Configuration is?" "Not off hand. Why?" "Oh. Um, nothing, I was just reading this article about it being stolen last week. It's nothing." "Oh. Well.alright." Upstairs, Buffy was awake. She could not sleep, nor had been sleeping for the past few days. Uneasiness was settling into her and depriving her of sleep. She lay on her side, away from the door, on top of her covers. She was feeling hungry, but too tired to move. Nevertheless, she slipped into her white pajama pants with little pigs and a white baby doll t-shirt and slowly headed downstairs. "Morning, Will. Good morning, Giles." "Good morning, Buffy" they both replied. Buffy looked around, rustling through her hair. "Did Xander get Dawn?" "Um, yes. He did, about 5 minutes ago." Giles responded. "Buffy, are.are you alright?" "Why do you say that? "It's.it's just that, that you've been, well, you seem rather.well, what I mean to say, have you been feeling alright." "Giles, I'm fine. I.I've just been having a little sleep trouble. That's it." "Oh." "Is there anything to eat?" "Not really, no. Except if you want a lovely banana and relish booster." Willow said. "Ew, call a rain check on that one. " Buffy then began to move over to the end of the dinner table, and pulled up a chair beside Willow. "Whatcha lookin' at?" "Oh, um, nothing, jus.just something on." "The Lament Configuration?" "Yeah." "Oh. Well, I didn't know you were into puzzles." "Well, I'm not, I mean, well, this box, this puzzle box got stolen from the museum last week." "Does it have anything mystical about it?" "See, that's what I'm checking. All I'm really finding is stuff about French toy making. " Willow continued to stare at the screen, with Buffy looking over her shoulder. The glare of images covered their eyes. "Oh!" Willow exclaimed in discovery. "I.I think I found something!" Giles took up his glasses from the coffee table and placed them on his face as he walked to further inspect Willow's announcement. "What is it?" Buffy asked. "I.I'm not sure. It's about the man who made the puzzle box. Some Frenchman named Phillip LeMarchand. It says here he was born in 1717 and was originally an architect, but his music boxes made him all the rage in Europe. "Yet, despite his notoriety, little is actually known about the man himself. Almost all of the information we have is based on rumor and speculation. Nearly all of his architectural creations were destroyed during World War II, and very few records remain documenting the events in his life. We do know that he was educated at the Academie Royale de Pienture et Sculpture in Paris in the early seventeen hundreds, that he was a freemason, that he moved to New York to pursue "more loftier pursuits than the mundane and oppressive tedium of a drafting table," that he later entered a competition to design the President's House, and that he had a devoted interest in the occult. It is this last association of Philip LeMarchand, that has resulted in his infamy. It was LeMarchand's interest in the supernatural which directly influenced the creation of his multitude of highly sought after puzzle boxes, which are rumored to either reveal great secrets and pleasures when solved, or death and the atrocities of Hell, depending on who you listen to.  
  
Until now, the best references we had on LeMarchand and his works were two articles by Valentina Sprague ("Architect of the Damned," Peniacle, June 1967; "Leviathan's White House" Pentacle, February 1975) one of which posed the question of what would have happened had LeMarchand been commissioned as the architect of the White House, since this would have followed the creation of his puzzle boxes. The other article was an attempt to re-create the events which brought Leviathan's material into LeMarchand's possession. Beyond this the only major surviving references are a brief mention in Bolinger's Encyclopedia of the Occult (1946) and a chapter on his architecture in Kaufmann's French Architecture of the Eighteenth Century (1936), which reveals little biographical information about the man himself, but does contain numerous illustrations of LeMarchand's buildings which no longer exist themselves." The three sat their, taking everything in. Buffy spoke up. "Well, that sounded like a big bunch of boring." "Wait, there's more." Willow said. "Yay." Buffy responded with cynicism. "As to whether or not LeMarchand made his peace with God, that is the biggest enigma remaining. Who knows what the consequences of solving it will bring? We know that in order for LeMarchand to create his boxes, he needed human fat, lots of it, so therefore he had to murder a great deal. This he must have done quietly, taking only people whose absence would go unnoticed, for we have no records of any European manhunt during the time he returned to France."  
  
"Fat?!" Buffy said with disgust. "Yes, fat and other bodily fluids and organs are said to contain powerful ingredients in many black rituals." Giles explained. "I've read AND seen worse I suppose."  
"LeMarchand was 94 years old when he checked into L'Hotel D'Armais. He was never seen checking out. When the hotel management finally entered his room they found it empty except for the furnishings, and one of LeMarchand's own boxes which sat on the floor amongst a great deal of blood. LeMarchand's final exit. Or was it? For all we know, this could be the scene of another one of LeMarchand's offerings to the Cenobites. " "Cenobites?" Buffy asked. "Cenobites. It means like a religious order." Giles answered. "Yeah, but what religion?" 


	2. Children in the Hands of Toys

Chapter Two: Children in the Hands of Toys_________________________________ Xander and Dawn didn't talk much on the ride to school that morning. The radio blared some hot-for-a-minute poppy punk anthem as Dawn just stared at the window, occasionally glancing at the back pack in her lap. Her long hair draped and concealed her face from Xander. He placed his hand upon the volume button and turned the song down. "You ok, Dawn?" "Yeah, sure, I'm fine." "Ok. It's just, usually when you're feeling fine, you tend to look the part, whereas now you're looking all Droopy and melancholy." "It's just." "School, I know. Believe me, I've worn that face many a time before entering that place." "No, it's not that. It's.Willow." "Willow? Hey, listen, Dawn. She's." "Rehabbed, I know. But, still, all that has happened, I can't.I can't forget it. And, now, she's back living with us, it.it just feels weird." Xander turned back to the road ahead and entered the newly built parking of lot of the revamped Sunnydale. He pulled up to the front of the building where others were dropping of their children. He put his foot on the brake and put the car into PARK. He then turned to Dawn, and she in turn looked at him, moving the long locks of brown hair away from her face. "Dawn, Willow needs all of us right now, more than ever. This is a rough patch for her, and regardless of what she's done, it's to us to forgive her and try and move things forward. Ok?" "Ok, Xander." "Now, that's enough of me being an adult.You got your stake?" "Yes." "Holy water?" "And cross, yes, Xander, I'll be alright." Dawn opened the door and exited, putting the book bag over her shoulder as she shut his door. Xander waved goodbye as he shifted gears and drove away. Dawn watched him but did not move towards the entrance. She waited until she knew he was gone. The North wind blew her hair from her face as she stared suspiciously out into the parking lot and into the street. No sign of him. She looked around for anyone of authority, anyone who could tattle. She clutched her bag tight and walked steadily into the parking lot, away from the school. She walked faster and faster through the parking lot, heading towards the wooded area of Sunnydale to one of its many, many cemeteries. She passed by familiar students, all of which she suspected could tell a teacher or Principal Wood. Or worse, Buffy! She finally made it out of the parking lot and across the street. She was now standing on the cracked sidewalk, facing the entrance to the wooded cemetery. She looked back at her school, which seemed so far away now, and passed through the creaky iron gates.  
  
She walked through the graveyard, but something was amiss. Usually, during the day, the cemetery was a place of peaceful serenity, a place where she could collect her thoughts and reflect. But the air was unsettling. As the sun shown down, the atmosphere was rank, full of a darkness unseen by the sun or Dawn. But she continued further into the cemetery, to an old, dilapidated church she frequented for meditative reasons.  
  
She looked down, and saw that there were no butterflies today. Every other time she had been there, they fluttered fancy free until dusk. Was there a demon here today? There was only one way the curious young lady could find out.  
  
She stepped up to the church door, which was shut. It was never shut. Her heart was racing and palms were sweaty, but why was she being drawn inside? She slowly pushed the ancient wooden door open, allowing a flush of sunlight to enter the darkness. The church looked as if a massacre had happened inside. The pews were all on their back and the altar up front was demolished and stained in blood. There were candle and idols in shambles and a pool of dried blood covered the floor at the altar. Dawn's eyes widened and she wanted to leave, but curiosity had other plans. She moved forward from the safety of the foreign sunlight into the shadows of pious destruction and decay. Something seemed to stand out in the shadows. It was sparkling, shimmering, like a golden beacon that called to her. It was a puzzle box, small and exquisite. Its surface was flawless in its golden intricacies. Dawn walked down the aisle, ignoring the pomegranate colored stains in the carpet. She kneels down and placed the Box in her hands. She sat in the center of the altar, ignoring the blood and slaughtered religious iconography. The shadows seemed to disappear around and the box she held in her hands. At first, she just stared at it, almost hypnotized by its beauty. She slowly placed her right index finger upon the circular design, touching the indented ring around it. It was as if something was making her finger the ring. She slowly did so, with captivated eyes. She was the place on the ring in which she started. Sweat began to trickle from her brow. Before she could reach the point of origin on the ring.  
  
"Dawn!"  
  
Dawn zipped her head up and saw a girl standing in the doorway. It was Lily. Dawn looked down at the box, puzzled, as if she'd been outside of herself and remembered very little. She stood up, dusting her butt off, suddenly grossed out by her surroundings.  
  
"Dawn, what are you doing here?" Lily asked as she strolled down the aisle, gazing at the eerie décor.  
  
"Oh, um.I just come here to, you know.think and stuff." "Well, let's go, this place has a weird Manson family vibe going on." "Yeah, alright."  
  
Dawn slipped the golden box into her back pack and the pair exited back into the safety of sunlight.  
  
"What was that you were messing with in there?" "Oh, some stupid box. I dunno, I think it's a puzzle or something. Anywho, what'd I miss in first period?" "First period? Dawn, you've been gone half the day!" "What?" "Yeah, it's already Lunch!" "Whoa."  
  
Dawn's head began to dig within itself, trying to figure out what was going on. Why it seemed as if she'd only been there a few minutes. Why had it seemed so long?  
  
"How'd you find me?" "Oh, when you didn't show up for class, I asked a few people. Clarissa told me she saw you go this way, towards the graveyard." "Oh." "Yeah, well, we should head back to school. Lunch is over in a few minutes."  
  
The girls picked up the pace and rushed through the grassy, secluded graveyard, across the parking lot, and back to school. The images and thoughts still lingered in the back of Dawn's mind, gnawing at her all the way to school, and throughout the rest of the day. 


	3. So Many Keys, So Many Doors

Chapter Three: So Many Keys, So Many Doors_______________________________  
  
Buffy stood in the kitchen, taking a break from the research she, Giles, and Willow, had been doing all day. She opened the fridge and saw the last of the milk sitting peacefully at the bottom of the plastic gallon. She eyed it, and then looked around for anyone who would use this lack of etiquette against her. She took up the gallon, separated it from the red cap, and drank.  
  
"Ah." Giles interjected. Buffy immediately turned her eyes towards the Brit as she chugged down the last drop.  
  
"Well, I suppose 'Got Milk' is a moot question now."  
  
Buffy wiped her mouth, crushing the plastic container with one hand. She looked at her former mentor with remorseful, almost exaggerated puppy dog eyes.  
  
"Willow says that she may've found something." "Good!" "Oh and um." "Um?" "You have a little something on your lip."  
  
Buffy awkwardly cocked a half-smile as she wiped away the milk with the back of hand. Giles let out a slight sigh and the pair returned to the dining room. Willow sat there, clicking on the pad of the laptop, staring into an endless abyss of knowledge, much of it not as useful as she'd like it to be. As she searched, it seemed like an eternity, especially with her magickal rehab still in effect. It had been a while, and all she could find were myths on the enigmatic Cenobites. She was so tempted to just let loose with a minimal locator spell, but she knew better, especially since Giles and Buffy were now entering the dining room.  
  
"So" Buffy began. "Whatcha got there, Will?" "Oh, um, it's something about those Cenobites we've been searching for. I.I think I may've found something." "Do tell" Buffy inquired.  
  
Giles adjusted his glasses and bent over Willow's shoulder, staring at the screen. His eyes began to squint.  
  
Buffy spoke up. "Hey, Giles, you wanna try doing your old routine with the dusty books and stuff?" "That actually sounds like a rousing good time compared to this.thing."  
  
Giles lifted up his specs, rubbing his eyes, and headed into the living room to find his jacket. A trip to the Magic Box would do him some good. The glare of the screen was one that his eyes could not quite constitute.  
  
"So, what do we have?"  
  
Willow scrolled down and there was an old parchment with French text scribbled all over it. There was also a diagram. Below the pic, a caption read: 'The Anatomy of Hell'. The sketch was of the box, but it had been dissected, split apart with intricate designs and symbols within. Various Latin incantations were inscribed with in the sketch.  
  
"Ok, so what are we looking at?" "Well, some of the inscriptions within the drawing, they're.they're incantations. From really old, really dark rituals." "So, we know he was into some really dark stuff. What else?" "Buffy, you don't understand. When.when I went all.veiny, I became one with some of the most primal magicks ever! But, this stuff, not even my own body could handle it. It rejected it." "So, whoever used these magicks." "Was powerful enough to manipulate the powers of Hell. Buffy, I could only use pieces of it, but this LeMarchand guy."  
  
Buffy stood there, the reflection of the screen's radiance in her eyes. Willow began to move the screen down some more, past text hat they had read, interpreted many times today. But, there was something new. It was another picture. This time, it was a sketch of a man. It was a crude drawing, its caption reading: 'Xipe Totec: The Dark Pontiff of Hell'. The man seemed to be bound in buckles and straps, with what appeared to be large, pointed objects protruding from his face. In his hand were blades, and chains dangled from his gown. Numerous Latin inscriptions, similar to that found in the Lament Configuration diagram, also graced this pic.  
  
"I'm off!" proclaimed Giles as he opened for the door. "Alright. We may be by later." Buffy replied. "Very well. Good luck, Willow, Buffy."  
  
Giles waved goodbye and shut the door behind him.  
  
As the girls stared into the pic, something came over Willow, only for a moment. It was a flash of memory, or rather, someone else's memory. Visions of a dark realm, filled with boundless pain, suffering, elation, and slavery. Although the vision was just a flash, the sound of razors against virgin flesh and the pitch of eloquent agony were as vivid and piercing as any thing she had ever felt.  
  
"You alright, Will?" "Yeah, I'm.just, a thing, you know?"  
  
Before Buffy could respond, the door opened.  
  
"Buffy, we're home!" Xander shouted, with Dawn rushing towards the steps leading up to her room. Buffy left her post at the laptop and headed into the living room to greet her friend and sister. Dawn did not speak to anyone; she escaped up to her room, clutching tight to her back pack.  
  
"What's the matter with her?" Buffy asked. "I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Dawnster smells like a cemetery?" "Dawnster?" "Yeah, she told me it sucked too."  
  
Buffy and Xander walked towards Willow, who was still at the computer, scanning the screen with her eyes for anything useful.  
  
"So, what are you ladies looking at, aside from a computer screen?" Willow responded. "Well, we were looking at this thing about the Lament Configuration." "The Cement Whatchamacallit?" "I dunno. It's some puzzle box that was stolen about a week ago. Willow claims that it may have some really evil magickal forces connected to it." "Ah, the usual."  
  
"Pretty much." Buffy said. "Yep." Willow followed. "So", Buffy began to inquire, "What's wrong with Dawn?"  
  
Upstairs, Dawn lay on her belly face down in an Anatomy and Physiology text book. Her back pack was open and the box waited inside, still.  
  
"Short is the Pain, Long is the Ornament"  
  
Dawn looked down at her notebook and noticed this phrase had replaced everything she had thought she had been writing. She didn't even notice her error. She looked at the phrase, trying hard to decipher it. She then looked to her bag, putting the pencil down between the crevice of the text book. Dawn slowly moved up from the book, sitting on her bed, holding her knees together. She looked into the abyss that was her back pack as the phrase rang through her head, like a dark whisper in a subtle wind. The Box was growing impatient with Dawn. The energy that beckoned Dawn began to grow, the temptation thickening. And Dawn was not one to resist temptation.  
  
As Dawn began to try and figure out the secrets of the Box, she began to caress a circle on one of its side, going around and around. Suddenly, there was a shock and the Box fell to the ground. A piece of the puzzle moved up and moved back and forth and went back  
  
into the Box. Then, it turned over and a cylindrical piece moved up. As it did so, the room began to shake and rumble with energies. It went back inside and turned onto another side. A square decoration opened into four pieces and music could be faintly heard. Dawn crawled over and looked into the tiny abyss. Suddenly, strange and mystical gusts of wind came over her room, blowing around papers, slamming her door shut, smashing her windows and shaking her bed violently. He room went pitch black and the sound of dangling chains, infant agony, chattering teeth, and moving mechanics could be heard, as the cracks in her floor began to glow. Suddenly, the lights came up again, only they burned a bright, whitish hue. The wind continued as the two walls on both sides of her door began to open, releasing mists and sounds. The hallways looked endless. Dawn just sat there as figures from the light began to approach. The first was The Butterball, a fat bald man who's ears had been cut off, eyes sewn shut, and his exposed gut had been torn out and stitched together again arrived first, out of the left. Out of the right, chattering teeth could be heard from a distance. It was The Chatterer, whose entire head was mutilated. Six steel wires pried his mouth open to reveal a horrid grimace as the wires squeezed the rest of his skin. A few seconds later, the goddess of pain and sensation, The Female, arrived following Butterball; pale, bald, her throat severed open, her trachea exposed as she brandished and sharpened her wicked blades. Finally, their commander arrived after Chatterer. His head had been carved into a grid and large pins  
  
had been put on his pale hairless head, like a crown of eternal visceral hierarchy. His gown dusted the floor as his chest wounds glistened. The Chatterer picked up Dawn by the hair and placed his blood stained fingers inside her mouth, pinning her against the wall while the others watched. They were the Order of The Gash, explorers in every region of pain and pleasure, masters of the black secrets and dark desires. They were the Cenobites.  
  
Dawn began to choke on the Chatterer's fingers, tears streamed from the child's innocent cheeks. Their leader stepped forward, wind scattering the pieces of paper around the demolished bedroom. It was him, Xope Totec, Kommander of the Order of the Gash, High Priest of the Dark Diamond. It was he who was known as Pinhead. Dawn's eyes widened with terror, becoming dark pools of nubile fear.  
  
"Oh, child, do not waste your tears. There is more than enough suffering in store." Dawn screamed as loud as was granted with the Cenobite's fingers inside her mouth, clamping her jaw. Her cries carried downstairs. Hearing Dawn's scream, Buffy perked up, "Whoa, did you guys hear that?" She asked turning to others, "It sounded like Dawn." Turning to Willow with a look in her eyes, Buffy said, "Do.do you guys feel that?" Willow looked up at Buffy, their mutual fear meeting eye to eye. "I feel it too!" Xander exclaimed. Willow could feel the dark energies congregating above her. It felt so tempting, so lovely. Like sweet, dark chocolate. Oh, these sensations excited her. Willow's lids began to flutter as her fingers began to tremble. "Will!" Xander shouted. Xander knelt down and began to hold her hand, lightly tapping her cheek to snap her out of it. "I'm going up there!" Buffy proclaimed. Wasting no time, she rushed in towards the staircase. As soon as her hand touched the wooden hand rail, her body felt frozen, as if stuck in a blizzard. As she exhaled, she could see her breath appear before her. This was not a deterrent, however, as the Slayer continued up the steps. "Uhhh." Willow groaned. "Where.where is.DAWN!" Willow then shot up, leaving behind Xander and the laptop, and headed upstairs for Buffy. Xander followed suit after his Wiccan companion. At the top of the staircase, Buffy could feel immediately that something was terribly wrong. She could sense an unnatural evil, unusually close by. "Dawn? Dawn, you okay?" called Buffy down the hall. There was no answer, so Buffy beckoned to the others and went for Dawn's room. Taking a deep breathe, Buffy attempted to kick the door in. "Dawn!" she cried, repeatedly kicking the door. Outside, the Cenobites could hear the Slayer's calls and cries to her sister. Pinhead turned to the door as The Female approached Dawn, her blades ready to cut through such sweet, tender skin. "Dawn! Dawn, hold on, I'm coming!" The Chatterer let his fingers loose from her mouth and Dawn pleaded to the legion. "P.Please, let.let me go. I.I don't." The Female spoke first, as Pinhead continued with his eyes on the door. "You opened the Box, did you not? You asked, we answered. It is the way things are. They have been this way since time was time." Outside, Buffy could feel the wood of the door weakening. Finally, she cracked through the surface. Pinhead snapped his fingers and a fury of black, razor sharp hooked chains swarmed the door, preventing anyone from entering. "Oh, stop crying. You wanted to play this game" spoke the Female. "You wouldn't be teasing us...would you?" The Female caressed Dawn's supple cheek with her razors as Pinhead snapped his head back around toward the young girl. "Who are you guys?!" Dawn screamed. "We are explorers in this, the boundless arena of absolute desire and destiny. We are angels to some, demons to others." The Chatterer's teeth clashed together in Dawn's ear as he pulled back her hair and tightened his grip around her throat. Pinhead spoke, looking into Dawn' s soul with his deep, empty black eyes... "You asked, you came."  
  
"But."  
  
"No more questions, child!" Pinhead turned around and headed back into the corridors of the abyss, Butterball and Female following behind. The Chatterer kept hold of Dawn as he followed his comrades into the bright lights of nothing. The walls of her room closed behind them as the Box was left upon Dawn's bedroom floor. The room returned to a relative normal and the chains retreated back into the shadows. The door opened for the others to see. There was nothing but the Box. Buffy stepped in first, the air still rank with evil. Willow and Xander stayed outside for a moment, taking in the entropy. "Oh my, Hecate!" whispered Willow. In the center of the floor, surrounded by pieces of shredded paper, resting atop a scratch-marked floor, the Lament Configuration was there, glistening, the music fading out. 


End file.
